


It's Tricky to Rock a Hunter

by TrickyJerseyGirl



Series: It's Tricky to Rock a Hunter [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dinner, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Hunter, First Date, First Meeting, Fortune Telling, Gabriel is Loki, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Gabriel is a Tease, Gabriel is an amazing date, Gabriel is creative, Gabriel is smooth, Het Relationship, Heterosexual Character, Heterosexual Sex, Kali Saves Gabriel, Kali is kind of a bitch, Kissing, Making Out, Mentions of Bobby Singer, New Orleans, Past Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), Protective Gabriel, Trickster Gabriel, a series of dates, gabriel is nervous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9509030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyJerseyGirl/pseuds/TrickyJerseyGirl
Summary: Loki is in a bar. Loki sees a hot woman. Hot woman tries to kill an incubus. Loki is intrigued.





	1. Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pre-pre-pre-prequel to the SPN series I write with Nadia Hart, "How to Make a Family" (http://archiveofourown.org/series/585817). This tells the story of how Gabriel--still known as Loki at the time of this prequel--met Tia, the hunter who would change his life. 
> 
> Basic character notes: Tia is a woman from New Orleans who has been hunting since she was in her early 20s. This is a SPN AU, where she is Bobby Singer's niece by marriage and Bobby was not killed. Tia's parents were killed and Bobby, her godfather, took her in and raised her. While it is not important for this story, Tia did spend time growing up with the Winchester boys and considers them her brothers. They are just not in this story :)

The bar was high-end and very crowded, but Tia spotted her prey almost before she’d finished her first drink. He was standing at the bar, impeccable in a tailored Italian suit, all perfect hair and perfect teeth and the kind of face and body that made best friends shove each other out of the way to just get near him. She undid one extra button on her shirt, hiked her skirt up an inch or so, and checked her lipgloss in the mirrored tabletop. All was in order. Time to pick up an incubus.

She made her way through the crowd, making sure to catch Prince Charming’s eye in the process. Once she got the smile and eye contact, she glanced at the bar, back at him, and held up her nearly empty glass -- scotch on the rocks, easily identified. He nodded back and called the bartender, indicating his own glass and then Tia, still a few people away but steadily moving closer. Lord love a lust demon, she thought. Sometimes it was almost too easy. 

Her drink was on the bar in front of him and she was four people away when she found her pathway blocked. “Well, hello gorgeous girl,” the man said. “Buy you a drink?”

She barely glanced at him, save to put her hand on his shoulder and attempt to move him. When he didn’t budge -- even a little -- she turned her head for a closer look. He was only slightly taller than her, since she was wearing heels, with sandy brown hair that was just a little too long so that it curled a bit at his collar. Pretty hazel eyes, the kind that change color with the light, and a slightly wicked smile. Good shoulders in a dark shirt, a swimmer’s build that tapered nicely at the waist and legs. Dark jeans, fitted but not tight, and very expensive leather shoes. Knows how to dress himself. Very cute. Clearly cocky. Her type, really, but she was on the job. “Sorry, sugar,” she said. “Someone beat you to it.”

He looked over his shoulder, then back at her. “That guy?” he scoffed. “You are way out of his league. I’ve watched him take home a different tourist every night. He wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a woman like you.”

“And you would?” she said. “Even though you’re apparently the kind of guy who is also in this bar every night.” Before he could respond, she put her forefinger on his lips. “Hush, now. I’m sure this goes down like sugar syrup with the sorority girls and the spring breakers, and bless your heart, honey -- whatever gets you through the night. So how about you take your pretty eyes on down to the Quarter, take some nice college girl for a spin at Tipitina’s, and leave the grown-ass women to their own decisions?”

He moved her hand, his smirk intact. “You think I have pretty eyes?”

She smiled back. She couldn’t help it. Any other night and she’d be taking him up on that drink, and then some. “Bon soir, sugar.” She pushed her way past him, not having to look back to know he was watching. 

“I was afraid we were going to be disrupted,” said the incubus, when she finally made her way to him. He held out her drink. “Remy McSwain.”

She had to fight hard to not laugh -- this one hadn’t bothered with much homework. Remy McSwain was a character in a cop movie called The Big Easy. It was a decent Cajun name, but this slow bastard hadn’t thought to master the accent. She accepted the drink and smiled. “Remy,” she said. “Like the cognac?”

Her comment didn’t register; she could tell by the lack of recognition in his beautiful, blank blue eyes. “And you are?”

“Thirsty,” she said. She took a long, slow swallow, and licked her lips. “Anne Chartrain. Are you in New Orleans on business?”

“I was, yes,” he said. He picked up his own drink -- some terrible cocktail in a martini glass that these places always served for fifteen times what the well liquor in them was worth -- and added, “But I’ve heard such wonderful things about the city, I decided to spend a few extra days on pleasure.”

“I’ve lived in New Orleans all my life,” she said. “So if you have any questions about the best pleasures of my little hometown, you feel free to ask them.”

His eyes flashed black for half a second. Gotcha. Seriously, if every job was as easy as the lust demons, she’d be home in time for The Daily Show every night. Hell, at this rate, she’d have him reeled in and gutted and still have enough time to visit a real bar after. Maybe even give Pretty Eyes a shot. 

Remy the incubus began talking tourist nonsense, and she answered almost by rote as she glanced around the room to confirm her exits and the easiest paths to them through the crush of people. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see Pretty Eyes at a table in the roped-off VIP section, where the crowds were thinner, though she was somewhat shocked to see him sitting by himself. There were an awful lot of looks being thrown in his direction; this was a man who didn’t have to sit alone unless he wanted to. He saw her looking and winked. Damn. It really was too bad she was on the clock. 

She heard Remy say something about Jackson Square, and she focused her attention back to him just in time. “It’s a lovely walk at night,” she said. “Right across it to the Quarter. I don’t suppose you’d…”

“Ever attempt to turn down such an offer from a beautiful Southern belle?” he smiled. “Absolutely not. I would be honored to accompany you on an evening stroll, Ms. Chartrain.”

Tia led him out the door and across the street to the square. She took his arm and pressed close; she threw in a stumble to make him think the scotch had gone to her head. “Oh my,” she giggled. “My daddy always did try to warn me away from hard liquor. But a girl’s gotta have a chance to be bad, don’t you think?”

He stopped walking and turned her to face him. “I couldn’t agree more,” he murmured, reaching up a hand to touch her face. Tia turned away, feigning coyness and using the distraction to reach for the syringe of holy water and crushed Eucharist in her purse. She flicked the safety cap off the needle as she turned back to him and slid her hand -- syringe at the ready -- beneath his jacket and down his ribs, feeling for the soft spot where the bones ended. She let him get within a hair's breadth of her mouth, then jabbed it in.

When he screamed and shoved her down hard, she knew she’d missed the liver. “Damnit,” she said aloud, scrambling backward to get enough space between her and him to get to her feet again. “Demon anatomy is a real pain in my ass.”

“Hunter bitch,” the incubus snarled. He was clumsy; the mixture had hit his bloodstream, but not enough to kill him outright. He lunged for her; she rolled just in time, tangling her purse around her arm in the process. The damn thing was twisted tight; she shook her arm hard, trying to get it to loosen enough so she could open it and get to the second syringe, which she was planning to bury in his goddamn temple if she got the chance. He grabbed at her again and got a grip on her ankle, and started pulling her toward him. Her skin scraped along the pavement and the burn of slow-motion road rash was distracting as hell. The demon’s other hand was groping in his pocket; as he drew her closer, he pulled out a revolver.

"A gun? How gauche." Both Tia and the incubus turned at the sound of the man's voice and, in that split second, the gun was kicked out of the demon's hand. The kick was followed up by a sickening crack as the man grabbed the incubus' head and wrenched it around to the side, snapping its neck.

"That won't keep him down permanently," he said. "You might want to inject him again before he plays Death Becomes Her."

Tia found her second syringe and finished the incubus off, then looked up at her savior. Sure enough, it was Pretty Eyes. "You're making movie references now?"

"Gallows humor. Just another service I provide." He offered her a hand, which she ignored, choosing to get to her feet on her own. She brushed herself off; sadly, her outfit was a lost cause. Along with the first few layers of skin on her left thigh.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said with a grandiose bow. "I'm -"

"Leaving," Tia finished. "Not that I don't appreciate the assist and all, but I'm in pain, in tatters, and all out of flirt. Maybe in another life, sugar." She started to walk away. Well, limp away.

"Wait!" he called. "Aren't you the least bit curious how I knew what he was? Or what you were up to?" He started to follow her. When he caught up, he touched her arm. 

Mistake. Very big mistake.

Tia whirled to face him, a stiletto in her hand, the tip under his chin. "Don't. Touch. The adrenaline-filled. Hunter."

Pretty Eyes had the unmitigated gall to grin at her. "C'mon, gorgeous girl. Just a leettle bit curious?" He didn't acknowledge the blade pricking his skin; he didn't even seem to notice it. He just looked into her eyes, wearing that fuck-me grin and apparently waiting for her to drop her panties. Maybe it was the adrenaline still pumping through her bloodstream, but she had to laugh. And with her laugh, she lowered the stiletto and took a step back.

"You've got brass balls, anyway." She held out her hand to shake. "Tia."

He took her hand and, instead of shaking it, lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm. "They call me ... Tim."

"No, they don't. And Monty Python? That's the best you could do?" She retrieved her hand.

"Okay, you got me. They actually call me Loki." He watched her closely.

Tia took a step back. "You're a Trickster." 

"Please. I'm THE Trickster." He grinned again. "Oh, come on. I saved your life. Can we save the anti-Pagan sentiment until I've had the chance to work my wiles on you?"

"Actually, I've got nothing against Pagan deities. At least, the ones that don't eat people or demand sacrifice."

"Then you're different from every other hunter I've ever met." He looked her up and down with an appreciative gaze. "Very definitely different from the other hunters I've met."

Tia thought for a moment, then came to a decision that she suspected she might regret tomorrow. "I'll tell you what. You zap the tatters from my outfit, and my leg, and I'll buy you a drink. After that, you sink or swim on your own merit. If you piss me off, I walk away without killing you. If I piss you off, you do the same. Agreed?"

In response, Loki snapped his fingers. The pain vanished from her thigh and the tears from her clothes. "Lead the way, lovely lady," he said with an elaborate bow. “Though admittedly, I’m far more interested in what happens if neither of us manages to piss the other off.” Tia had to laugh again. If nothing else, he amused the hell out of her.

She led him across the park and down two blocks from the center of the Quarter, to a small dark bar that was far more her style than an overpriced hipster pick up joint. She waved at the bartender. “Enchante, Louis.”

The bartender, a grizzled old man in a faded Ozzy t-shirt, waved her over. He came out from behind the bar to envelope her in a bear hug. “Ooooo, now, there’s my fine cher. How you doing, honey? When did you swing back into town?”

“Been back a couple days now,” she said. “You got a bottle back there for me and my friend?”

Louis looked the trickster up and down. “Ya’ll are a little overdressed for my joint. What ya think you’re doing here with my girl?”

“Drinking,” Loki smiled. “And she led the way. I just followed.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” he said. “Seen a lot of boys follow my girl. Seen a lot of them follow her out, too. Don’t see many comin’ back in again.” He went back behind the bar, pulling out a bottle and two glasses. “Your table’s in the back, darlin’. Ya’ll want food?”

“Maybe later.” Tia grabbed the bottle and the glasses. “If I need you, I’ll holler.”

“And I’ll come on runnin’,” he said, with a pointed look at Loki. “Right quick.”

Her table was in the back of the bar, separate from others. Tia sat, opened the bottle, and poured two measures. “Louis was the bouncer at the club I used to dance in,” she said as Loki joined her. “I’ve seen that old man toss boys half his age without breaking a sweat. He opened this place up about a year after I started hunting. He keeps my table free every night, just in case.”

“And by dance, you naturally mean ballet.” He drank the scotch. “Yeah, I hear Swan Lake can get a little rough some nights.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Damn divas getting all up in a girl’s business. Tutus flying everywhere.”

“Now that’s a production I’d like to see.” He tapped the lip of his glass, and she poured for him. “I don’t suppose you still have one of those tutus lying around?”

“Sure,” she said. “I keep it in the same place as my guns.” She drained her glass and poured herself another. “You wanna tell me what brought you to New Orleans?”

“Beignets,” he said. “I have a taste for the sweeter things in life, and I do love licking the sugar off my fingers afterward. Or someone else’s fingers, if the opportunity presents itself.”

“I always end up with it falling down my shirt,” she said with a smile. 

“Well, then this is a fine time for Cafe du Monde to be packed to the rafters with tourists,” he said. “Damn Jazz Fest. Because that sounds like a problem I’d be happy to help with.” He sat back. “By offering extra napkins, of course.”

“I’ll bet.” 

“Actually,” he said. “I have a house here, in the Garden District. I’ve loved this city for a long time. Great food. Great music. Great scenery. And seriously spectacular broads.”

She laughed. “You think you are as smooth as silk, don’t you?”

“As smooth as a magnolia petal in the spring, gorgeous girl,” He turned his face and leaned toward her. “Go on. Give it a feel. Don’t even pretend you don’t want to.”

She reached over and brushed the back of her hand over his cheek. “Impressive,” she said. “Smooth shave like that, makes a girl wonder if you’re taking tips from the drag queens.”

“Let’s just say I like to keep things nice and soft,” he said. “Beard burn doesn’t help anybody. And I already had to fix the skin on your thigh once tonight.”

“Getting a little ahead of yourself, don’t you think?” she asked. 

“Says the woman who brought up sugar falling on her cleavage before I’d even finished my second drink.” He lifted his glass to her. “I figured I was just catching up.”

“So why’d you stop me in the bar?” She had a little more scotch. “You knew what he was. You didn’t know what I was.”

“Competition,” he said. “I said you were out of his league. I meant it. I didn’t want anyone having a shot at you before I took one, nor was I particularly interested in seeing such a beautiful woman get herself turned into a dried up husk by a two-bit lust demon. Same reason I kept an eye on you and followed you out to the square.”

“Figuring on pulling a knight in shining armor trick?”

“Not that you needed it, but yes. Then I saw you take the syringe out of your purse, and I realized you were going to be a lot more interesting than I’d thought.” He leaned back in his chair again. “Still saved your ass, though.”

“You did,” she said. “I’m woman enough to admit it. And you didn’t even blink when I had that knife to your neck.”

“I knew you weren’t going to kill me,” he said. “And if you’d tried, well…” He held up his hand and snapped, refilling both their glasses in an instant.

“That’s damn handy,” she said. 

“Miss Tia,” he smiled. “You really have no idea.”

“I might,” she said, returning his smile. “Though I hope they don’t all turn out to be as...quick as all that. Because that would be a disappointment.”

"It certainly would," he agreed. "Fortunately, as a trickster, I come prepared with tricks of all kinds."

Their eyes met, and Tia could practically see the sparks jump between them. She lifted her glass and, without breaking eye contact, took a slow sip of her drink. When she put her glass down, she murmured, "Fortunately, as a woman, so do I."

"Oh, I don't doubt that for a single minute."

Finally, after a thousand years, they both looked away. To her mingled relief and disappointment, the moment passed, and the tension, tight as a harp string, eased.

Loki cleared his throat. "Have you ever seen the Mississippi at night?" Then he chuckled. "You're a native - of course you have."

Tia smiled back. "I haven't been home for a few months, so I would love to take a walk down by the river." They stood, and before she could get out her wallet, Loki dropped a few folded bills on the table. She glanced down and saw that they were hundreds. 

"I thought I was buying," she said. "You know, for saving my life, and fixing my outfit and leg and all. And I think you might have tipped too much."

"Haven't you heard? I'm capricious." Loki offered his arm. "You can get the next round."

"No offense," Tia said hesitantly, "but since Louis is my friend, I have to check. Please tell me those are real, legal U.S. tender and aren't going to change into, I don't know, dead leaves or something."

"None taken. I am a trickster, after all. But that's a lowdown Fey trick - it's beneath me. I promise, they're as real as they come. Besides, I want to make sure Louis doesn't bounce me out on my ass when I follow you back in through his door."

Tia laughed again and took the proffered arm. "When, huh? Damn, but you're arrogant, you know that?" Arrogant, charming, funny, and those eyes. He is trouble on two legs, she thought. And damn if I'm not looking forward to every last minute of it. I haven't laughed like this in ... I don't know how long.

The pair walked through the French Quarter and down the walkway that ran beside the river. Tia occasionally pointed out landmarks, sharing anecdotes about the funny, dangerous, or just plain strange things that she'd seen and done. In return, Loki recited tales from the history of the same spots - not school book history, but events he'd actually witnessed. Tia couldn't tell if his stories were true or if he was making them up off the top of his head, but they were so fascinating that, as the song said, if they weren't true, they ought to be.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they meandered past her apartment building. Tia, realizing how tired she was and how late it had gotten, decided to take it as a sign. A little regretfully, she said, "I think it's time to call it a night." 

Before she could ask him to come up, the trickster said, "Normally, this would be when I would invite myself in for a nightcap and then charm your panties right into my pocket. But I think I'd rather try something different." He smiled, slow and seductive. "Will you allow me the pleasure of taking you out tomorrow evening?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" 

"I believe that's what it's called, yes." For the first time all night, he looked a little unsure, a little nervous.

"Well then. In that case, I accept." She was gratified by the enormous smile he gave her. "And for the record, I like different. Good things come to those who wait."

"Then I'll pick you up at 9:00 p.m." As she nodded her agreement, he took her chin in his hand, tilted her head up, and pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes closed, her lips parted, and suddenly they were kissing, hot and hungry. They pulled each other in close. Tia put her hand on his ass and squeezed; he threaded his fingers into her hair and made a fist -- tight, just on the edge of pain, and damn, it was good.

They parted after a millisecond, or a millenium. She wasn't sure. She looked into his eyes and whispered breathlessly, "You sure about that nightcap?"

"I've never been less sure of anything," he responded, also whispering, and her heart sped up a little more at the tremor in his voice. "But no. Till tomorrow, Gigi." He took a step backwards.

She blinked at him. "Gigi? But how did you ...?"

"''Gorgeous girl' was taking too long to say." He smiled. "Why?"

She smiled back. "I'll tell you tomorrow." She opened her door and stepped inside. "Goodnight, Trickster," she said, and shut the door before they could change their minds.


	2. Coffeee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second date time for Gabriel aka Loki, and he has a hell of a night planned. But will it be enough to woo a hunter? Depends how she feels about cemeteries, picnics, a little time travel, some great music, and a whole lot of tricky romance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel to the series "How to Make a Family" by myself and Nadia Hart.

She didn’t bother getting out of bed until nearly three in the afternoon. And even then, she was sorely tempted to lounge around for another hour, maybe two, but then she noticed something -- her apartment smelled of coffee. Her tiny apartment. The one she lived in by herself. She slid a knife out from under her pillow and silently walked out of her bedroom.

She quickly realized the place was empty. And what was causing the smell -- on her kitchen counter was a large to-go cup of chicory coffee, a sugar stick for stirring, a tiny pitcher of real cream, and a fresh, still warm beignet. There was also a magnolia branch in full bloom, with a folded piece of paper learning against it. She put down the knife and opened the note: Be awake, but don’t ruin your appetite. And watch out for that sugar. Or let me instead. See you at nine. Dress for adventure. L.

The “L” was signed with a flourish, of course. She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. He was a charming son of a bitch.  
***  
Dress for adventure. Tia puzzled over those words as she stood in front of her closet a few hours later. Finally, she decided to take him literally. She pulled out her "hunting" jeans, the ones she'd had a seamstress friend alter by adding a gusset in the crotch, which was the only way to make them fighting- and running-friendly. Plus, she liked how they fit in the ass. She topped them with a Run-DMC t-shirt. She wasn't a huge fan of rap, but it said "It's Tricky" across the front, which she thought would make Loki laugh. She pulled out her battered Doc Martins, which were far more comfortable than sneakers. Finally, she stuffed a few hunting essentials in her pockets -- a small blade, salt, a vial of holy water. While she doubted this would be a kill-heavy date, she assumed that, by adventure, he meant ... well, adventure.

Tia's doorbell rang promptly at 9:00 p.m. Loki stood on her doorstep in jeans and a forest colored cotton button-down that made his eyes practically glow green. When he saw her, he grinned widely and exclaimed, "I knew it. I knew it! If I'd had someone to bet, I would have won."

Tia smiled and shook her head. "I would share your enthusiasm if it made the slightest bit of sense to me." She stepped out her door, locking it behind her.

Loki bent to retrieve the picnic basket at his feet. Tia would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that it wasn't there a moment ago. "Some women, when told to dress for adventure, would be wearing something that screamed sex. But you, well ... the way you're dressed, you're ready for just about anything. And somehow," he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, "you make a t-shirt and jeans scream sex." He wiggled his eyebrows. "At least to me."

Tia laughed. "And here I thought everything screamed sex to you." She matched his steps as they walked down the street. "So this was a test? I'm not sure how to feel about that."

"Not a test," Loki protested. "More like ... a quiz. If you wore a microdress and 4-inch heels, we would be headed one way. But since you're ready for a real adventure, we're headed a completely different way. And I think you'll like this direction much better."

"Which begs the question," Tia said. "Where are we going?"

Loki grinned. "St. Louis #1," he answered, and snapped his fingers.

They were standing in front of Marie Laveau's tomb. The white marble glowed in the moonlight, marred only by the XXX's scrawled in marker, nail polish, and anything else that could be found in a stupid tourist's pocket or purse.

"So. Why here?" Tia asked.

Loki shrugged. "Because it's quiet, the architecture is beautiful, and where would be more fitting to begin an adventure in New Orleans than before the Voodoo Queen's final resting place?" He bowed in the direction of the tomb, a gesture of respect.

"You have a valid point," she conceded.

They strolled along the narrow aisles between the mausoleums until they came to a relatively flat spot. Loki reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a blanket, which he spread on the ground. He gestured to Tia to sit as he pulled item after item out of the basket: a thermos of coffee and two mugs, a fat loaf of freshly baked bread, a large hunk of cheese, a few apples, a couple of plates, some utensils ... Tia started to wonder if her date had taken a cue from Dungeons & Dragons, because that basket seemed pretty bottomless. When she asked him, he laughed and answered, "Not D&D - Doctor Who. The basket is bigger on the inside."

Loki pour the coffee while Tia cut some bread and cheese, and sliced up a few apples. “I admit,” she said. “I was expecting wine.”

“I can make that happen, if you like,” he said, handing her a steaming mug. “But I plan to keep you out very late. So that means I need you awake. However, since I also prefer you happy, it’s possible I added a little whiskey.”

She sipped, then smiled. “Or a lot of whiskey.”

“Mmmaybe,” he shrugged, and winked.

She laughed. They fell into a companionable silence as they began to eat, but soon Tia remembered a few questions she wanted to ask. "I've been wondering," she began. "How many of the Norse myths are true? Are they even close, or is it like the Bible - written primarily for the masses?"

"Hmm. How much of the legends have you read?"

Tia smiled. "I'm a hunter, sugar. Myths and legends are the meat of my little world. I've read the Poetic Edda cover to cover, more than once."

"Alright," Loki nodded, "so you won't need the Cliff’s Notes. Excellent." He paused and took a huge bite of apple. "To begin with, I didn't get Baldur killed. Not that the thought hasn't crossed my mind over the millennia, but the little jerk is still alive and kicking."

"Not a lot of love lost there, huh?"

"If you met him, you'd understand. 'Look at me, I'm so perfect! I'm so pretty! Allfather loves me best!' He's a tool."

Tia laughed so hard she almost choked. When she caught her breath, she asked, "Okay, what else?"

Loki thought a moment. "I was never a pregnant mare. That was a total lie. Snorri really knew how to hold a grudge."

"I'd forgotten about that one," Tia said. "And I suppose Snorri didn't have a really good reason for that grudge, did he?"

"It was all a misunderstanding," Loki said airily.

"No doubt."

"Alright," he said, "now it's my turn to ask a question."

"Fire away," she said.

"What was the first album you bought with your own money?"

The question startled a laugh out of Tia. "Not the question I was expecting."

"And what question were you expecting?" he asked with a grin.

"One at a time!" she said. "Okay, the first album I bought with my own money. Billie Holiday, The Decca Years. I was 12 years old, and it took me weeks to save up my babysitting money. I practically wore holes in that CD, I played it so much."

"Billie Holliday? A 12-year-old, picking out Billie Holliday." Loki shook his head. "You are just full of surprises, you know that? What was your favorite song on that album?"

Tia smiled mischievously. "Crazy, He Calls Me."

Loki laughed aloud, and after a beat, Tia joined him.

"Okay," he said, when they caught their breath. "Your turn."

Tia thought for a moment. "I could ask myth questions all night and still not run out. But that might get boring for you, and" -- she looked at him flirtatiously from underneath her lashes -- "I'd just kick myself if I allowed you to get bored."

Loki reached out and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "I sincerely doubt you could bore me, gorgeous girl. Do your worst."

"Why do you call me Gigi?"

Loki smiled. "I told you, it's easier to say than repeating gorgeous girl all the time, and Ell-ell, for lovely lady, doesn't have the same ring to it."

"So you didn't know that my middle name is Brigitte?"

"No," he answered, "but now I'm definitely going to call you Gigi."

"In that case," Tia responded, "I get another question. In exchange for you sticking me with a nickname." She gestured in the direction of Marie Laveau's tomb. "How well did you know the Voodoo Queen?"

Loki smiled, but looked a little puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

Tia shrugged. "It's in the way that you say her name, how you looked at her tomb. You knew her, and well."

"Oh, you're good. You're right. I knew the Widow Paris. We were friends for years. Occasionally we were lovers."

"What happened?" Tia asked.

"She figured out what I was, and when I couldn't give her eternal life or youth, she cursed me and kicked me out of her house." Loki shrugged. "Damballah still holds it against me - she was his favorite."

Tia sighed. "You have led an interesting life."

"So have you, Gigi. Probably more interesting than mine, considering that you have had way less time to live it in. I've been around forever, but you - you've seen and done at least as much cool shit as I have, in a fraction of the time."

Tia thought about that, as she ate another apple. Loki kept silent while she contemplated his words.

Finally, she gave him a considering look. "So," she said. "What you're trying to tell me is, you're quite the cradle robber." The tension broken, they both laughed long and hard.

Tia had some more coffee, then touched her face, smiling. “My cheeks actually hurt,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much. And I have a feeling that you’re just getting started.”

"That I am, Gigi. That I am." Loki paused, then looked at his watch. "We need to make ourselves scarce for about, say, a half hour or so." He stood and offered her his hand.

"And why is that?" she asked as she let him help her up.

"New Orleans' Finest patrols the cemeteries, and they're pretty serious about keeping people out at night. Now, I could make us invisible, but since it fits in with my plans for this evening, well..."

"I get it," Tia smiled "Where are we headed now?"

"The Mississippi Delta," Loki said, and snapped his fingers.

They stood on a dirt road. In the distance, Tia saw a ramshackle building, all lit up, with music pouring out the open door.

"I hope you like to dance," Loki grinned, "since I already know you like delta blues." He started walking down the road, and she followed suit.

As they approached the building, they saw other people, singles and couples, headed the same way. Tia could tell by their clothes that they had left the 21st century behind.

"When are we?" she whispered fiercely to Loki.

He looked sidelong at her, with that grin that screamed trouble. "I'm not exactly sure. What year was Robert Johnson performing as an itinerant musician?"

Tia's mouth dropped open. "Please say you're joking."

As they approached the steps leading to the speakeasy's doorway, Loki whispered, "Listen to that guitar and tell me I'm joking." He paused, and waited until she shook her head in amazement. "Now, one thing you should know: anyone who looks at us will see someone they've seen here before but don't know well enough to talk to. I find it's easier than changing both our clothes and our skin color .In a community like this, strangers are a novelty. That's the last thing we need. So, are you ready to go in?"

Tia nodded, still a little stunned. What followed was an experience she would remember for the rest of her life.

It wasn't just the music, which was amazing. Robert Johnson was a young, handsome man who could clearly have just about any woman in the room, and he played his guitar like a virtuoso. There was a woman singer, and her voice was the clearest, most beautiful thing Tia had heard in a very long time.

It wasn't the dancing, either, although that, too, amazed her. Although each couple was clearly focused on their partner to the exclusion of all else, and the dance moves were more sensual than anything she'd seen in a modern club, they all moved like a flock of birds, intricate and graceful.

No, it was the total experience, she decided. It was the very fact that she, Tia Beausoleil, was in a ‘20's speakeasy, listening to Robert Johnson and grinding her hips against a devastatingly handsome demigod who only had eyes for her, who had brought her here to this place and this time just because he knew she would love it. As they rocked in each other's arms, she leaned forward and whispered, "Thank you for this."

Loki pressed his lips to her ear, his breath warm against her skin, and whispered softly, "It was my pleasure, gorgeous girl."

All too soon, it was time to go back. The band took a break, and Loki took the opportunity to take Tia by the hand and lead her to the door. As they walked down the country road, hand in hand, Tia said, "I have to ask. Where would you have brought me if I had been in a miniskirt and 4-inch heels?"

Loki shrugged. "I try not to plan too much. You've read the myths - that never ends well for me. But I was thinking Paris. Every New Orleans girl should see Paris at least once in her lifetime."

"Wow," Tia said. "I'm almost disappointed. Almost."

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "it would have been an easier answer. I mean, every New Orleans girl should see Paris. But not every girl would enjoy one of Robert Johnson's sets. I thought of that after we talked."

"I get it," she smiled.

Loki casually snapped his fingers, and they were transported from the Mississippi dirt road back to the cemetery. As they sat back down on the blanket, Tia put a hand on his cheek, then leaned in for a kiss. Loki threaded his hands into her hair as she snaked her other arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

When they broke apart, he said a little breathlessly, "What was that for? Not that I'm complaining."

She looked into his eyes and smiled. "That was a thank you for a truly wonderful time."

"Oh, gorgeous girl. Remind me to take you ... everywhere."

"Remind me to go ... everywhere," she murmured, and kissed him again.

***

When they finally folded the blanket and left the cemetery, it was so late, it was almost early. They walked hand in hand through the sleeping city until they arrived at Tia's street. As they approached her building, he said hesitantly, "Remember that whole 'good things come to those who wait' thing?"

She looked at him sidelong. "You read my mind."

He continued, "It's not that I don't want ... wait, what?"

She giggled. "I said, you read my mind. I agree. This is ... way more intense than I thought it would be, and I'd like to see where it goes."

"Yes, exactly," he said, clearly relieved.

"That's not to say that I'm not going to tempt the hell out of both of us," she said as they reached her door.

"Thank Odin for that," he said fervently and pulled her close. He brushed his mouth against hers. “And that’s not to say I’m not going to help.”

“Lord love a helpful man,” she said. Then she put her hands on his face and kissed him with everything she had.

She hadn’t been entirely sure what kissing a demigod after a second date would be like, but she definitely wasn’t disappointed by the experience. He tasted like sugar and sweet wine, and his mouth was warm and glorious, especially when he moved from her lips to her throat. She had her hands in his hair, alternately threading and pulling, and the sounds he made when she got a little rougher made her press her body even closer to his. It was incredible, considering they both still had all their clothes and had yet to put hands anywhere that wasn’t already exposed. When he entwined his fingers with hers and pinned her against the door to her building, she thought she’d come out of her skin, a feeling that got a little more intense when he ran his tongue along her clavicles and nipped at the skin there. She gasped aloud at the pleasure of it.

He lifted his head to kiss her again, and when he groaned into her mouth, she was ready to yank him through the damn door and up the stairs. But then he pulled back just a little, just enough to speak even as his arms were locked around her tight. “Okay,” he said. his breath coming in harsh pants. “I should go. I should really, really go.”

“Yes, absolutely,” she said, a second before kissing him again. “You should definitely go,” she murmured against his mouth, her hand sliding into his shirt and along the skin of his chest.

He smiled, then kissed her, his teeth gently grabbing her lower lip, his tongue soothing the marks he’d made. “You are not making this easy for me,” he said. His dug his fingers into her ribs and pulled her hips against his.

She grinned when she felt exactly what a good job she was doing, and wrapped one of her legs around his calf. “Third date, right?” she asked. They weren’t quite kissing, but they definitely weren’t not kissing, either. “What time should I expect you?”

“Fuck, how much sleep do you need?” He gripped her hair again, his kiss all teeth and tongue and the very limits of control. He dragged his mouth along her cheek to her ear, nibbling on her earlobe just before he whispered, “How’s two o’clock sound?”

“Sounds like about ten hours from now,” she said. “Sounds like I cannot fucking wait.”

He pulled back to look her in the eyes and smooth her hair back from her face. “I will make it worth it,” he said.

“That,” she said, “I can definitely believe.”

He kissed her once more, then gave her a gentle push her toward her own door as he took a step back. “Go inside,” he said with a smile. “Or I will forget that I am trying my best to be a gentleman.”

She unlocked the door without looking, without taking her eyes off him. “And here I thought you were a Trickster.”

He winked. “First time for everything, gorgeous girl. Two o’clock. Be dressed and ready. Or at least be ready. Right now, I’m not all that fussed about dressed.”

“Bring me coffee,” she smiled.

“And more.” He leaned in for one last kiss. “Good night, hunter.”

“Good night, trickster.” She ran her hand through his hair. “See you later.”

“God, yes.” He was standing on the step, still smiling, when she closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more Gabriel and Tia, please read our series, "How to Make a Family." As always, comments are love.


	3. Beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date 2.5 and things are heating up in New Orleans. Can a hunter trust a trickster? Advice from a friend can help. (smutty smut in next chapter!)

Tia slept deeply and dreamlessly, but when she woke, around 11:00 a.m., she couldn't get back to sleep no matter how hard she tried. Finally, she gave up and pulled herself out of bed. She threw on a pot of coffee to brew while she showered, and by the time she was on her second cup, she realized what thought was nagging at her: it was time to call Uncle Bobby. The supernatural community, if one could call it that, was small enough that gossip traveled faster than salt through a vengeful spirit. If her _Tonton_ caught wind of her new romance, he was likely to show up on her doorstep, ready to stake first and ask questions later.

Bobby Singer picked up the phone on the second ring. "It ain't my birthday, so to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Good morning to you too, sunshine." Tia responded. "Can't a loving niece call her cranky bastard of an uncle now and again?"

"Sure she could, but she don't ever do it." After a pause, his voice softened. "I'm sorry, baby girl. I _am_ glad to hear from you. It's been one hell of a week."

"Want to talk about it?" she offered.

"Nah," he said. "Same monsters, different day, is all. So what's going on with you? Not to be a cranky bastard, but the truth is, you ain’t called for a while."

Tia sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry. Shit just adds up and time gets away from me. You know how it is." She paused for a deep breath. "So, I’m uh, I’m seeing someone. I think."

"Okay. That's good, ain't it?" Bobby thought for a moment. "But you wouldn't be telling me unless...is it a hunter? I thought you said you'd never date a hunter. I believe your exact words were, 'at worst, they're total sociopaths, and at best, they carry more baggage than a DC-10.'"

"He's not a hunter, _Tonton_. Now, mind your blood pressure. He's kind of... a trickster."

She could practically hear Bobby's grip tighten on the telephone receiver. "How is he 'kind of a trickster'? Sounds like being a little bit pregnant. And how in the hell did you end up ‘seeing’ a damn trickster, anyway?"

Tia laughed nervously. "You're right. He's a trickster - he’s Loki, actually. And I didn't plan on it. But he jumped into a fight and saved my life, so we had a drink, and then we had a few more drinks, and he asked me out and I said yes."

"Uh huh, I just bet he did. Are you sure he didn't set up the fight just to get on your good side?"

"It crossed my mind, but I don't think so. It didn't go down that way."

Bobby gave a long-suffering sigh. "Why can't you just meet a nice boy, settle down, and adopt half dozen babies for me to spoil?"

The image of herself surrounded by crawling toddlers was so incongruous that she had to laugh. "And where am I going to meet a nice boy? Hunters are _couillon_. I can't date a civilian for any length of time before the lies and evasions get so convoluted that I can't keep track of them. With Loki, not only does he know what's out there, but he’s seen what I can do about it. We’ve been on two dates so far, and I gotta tell you, _Tonton,_ he treats me like a queen. And he makes me laugh."

"Goddamnit. How can I argue with that?" Bobby asked. "You deserve to be treated like a queen. Alright. I'm glad you told me, baby girl. Ain’t glad about what you’re doing, but that ain’t new and you’re a grown woman. But if he crosses the line, if he pulls a single fucked up trickster prank and you get hurt, you tell him I will stake his ass before he can say Valhalla. You got that?"

"I'll be sure to pass the message along," Tia answered. " _Bisous_ , _Tonton_."

" _Bisous_ , princess."

*****

As tempting as it was to be waiting at the door in a micromini and 4-inch heels, Tia was dressed in her typical jeans and a tshirt as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. Besides, she reasoned, if she wasn’t wearing the right outfit, well, there were definite upsides to dating a guy who could finger-snap you into the appropriate outfit for any occasion.

Just as she had finished, she smelled the distinctive odor of chicory coffee coming from her kitchen. She smiled, gave herself a final glance in the mirror, and walked through the apartment. Sure enough, sitting on her table were two large to-go cups and a very large sack of Cafe du Monde beignets. There was also a note: "I'm coming. [Insert childish joke here.] Save me some sugar. [Insert another joke here.] L."

Tia chuckled and headed for the door, planning to have it open before he rang the bell. Surprisingly, he wasn’t standing there when he opened it, nor did he suddenly appear. She looked around and saw him actually walking up her street, a smile on his face and a bit of a strut in his step. In the afternoon sunlight, his hair shone burnished gold, and she just knew that the deep brown shirt he was wearing would make his eyes the color of her favorite whiskey. It occurred to her to wonder if he had the biggest closet in the multiverse, or if some poor girl at the Gap was going to take the blame for a missing shirt. She watched with admiration and not a little flutter in the pit of her stomach, and as he started jogging up her steps, she grinned and said, "Looking pretty human for a demigod."

He grinned back. "Looking pretty divine for a human. Did you leave me any beignets?"

"One or two." She turned just before he reached her so that he had to follow her into the house. She’d worn those jeans for a reason, after all. Might as well let him enjoy it.

They sat at her kitchen table and for a while there was no sounds save the rustle of the greasy, sugary paper bag and the occasional slurps of very hot coffee.

After four glorious pastries that left her briefly regretting that the collar of her t-shirt hadn’t allowed for an advantageous fall of powdered sugar, Tia spoke. "So I know you're not big on revealing your big plans, but do I get any clue what we're doing today? I only ask because if I need to change into the micromini, I should probably put panties on." She sipped her coffee.

Loki choked on his beignet. Powdered sugar burst from his mouth in a white haze, which made Tia laugh so hard she had to cover her own mouth to keep coffee spurting out of it.

"Thanks," he said, wiping sugar from his face and shirt. "Thanks for that. If I didn't know better, I'd swear that was a subtle hunter's trick to kill me with a donut."

"It wasn’t exactly subtle.” She stood up and did a little turn for him, showing off the low, tight jeans. “And if I was trying to kill you, I’d have said I’d put the skirt on as-is.”

He stood as well, and pulled her in as as she finished her turn. "The jeans are deadly enough, gorgeous girl," he murmured just before he kissed her. And yes, his lips were soft but firm and yes, his body was pressed right up against her own, and it was just as good as it had been every other time and now he was licking the sugar off her lips, and christ, what the hell was she waiting for anyway? She gripped the back of his shirt in her hands and started to pull it up, and then it was him who pulled away, with a reluctant little groan that made it that much harder to stop.

"Third date's not yet begun," he said softly. He was still close enough that she felt his breath against her mouth, and she actually cursed aloud, which made him laugh and kiss her again. This kiss was more controlled, though, and he was smiling so that the skin around those whiskey-colored eyes crinkled. "Let's get away from the painful proximity to your bed," he suggested, "and go for a walk. In public. Where I can't tear your clothes off without getting arrested. We can get some beer in to-go cups and see how many tourists we can fuck with." He waggled his eyebrows.

She raised one eyebrow in return. “Don’t you be pickpocketing college kids now.”

“Pickpocketing? You wound me,” he said. “I mean something more like accidentally porting a few into the bayou. Just the drunk ones who are rude to you, of course.”

“Of course.”

They left her house and began walking through the streets, her hand in his and their fingers entwined. It was funny, she mused, how they were managing not to stop touching while at the same time maintaining a certain amount of distance. Her head was still reeling a little from the kiss in her kitchen, and she wasn’t sure whether she admired his patience or was getting goddamn tired of it. A little of both, she decided.

He gave her a sideways glance and chuckled. “Don’t admire it too much. It’s not going to last forever.”

She started. “You can read my mind?”

“I can,” he said. “But I usually don’t. Well, I mean, I don’t with you. I haven’t, I mean. You were, uh, a little loud. You’ve let your guards down.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “So you know.”

“Yeah.” They walked in silence for a moment, and then he squeezed her hand. “Look, noticing things like that, it kinda comes with the territory for me. But this is the first -- the only time -- I heard anything, and I didn’t go looking.”

“Trickster,” she said. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

“I haven’t lied to you yet,” he said. “And I’m not going to. I can feel that you’re a sensitive. But that’s it. I don’t need to know anything else.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I don’t really hide it, I suppose, and it’s not like you’re the first… person I’ve ever come across who’s noticed. Other psychics know it right away.”

“Have you always had it?” he asked as they turned to walk across Congo Square.

“Long as I can remember,” she said. “I remember it scared the hell out of my parents. But then my uncle talked to them and they calmed down. He’s a hunter, though I didn’t know that at the time. And I don’t think my parents ever knew or I doubt they would have made him my legal guardian in the event of their death. But he smoothed things over, let them know I wasn’t crazy.”

“A hunter, huh?” Loki smiled at her. “And does he know that his niece’s boyfriend is a trickster?”

She raised her eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t aware that his niece had a boyfriend.”

His smile didn’t budge. “You really the kind of woman who’s going to insist on the whole uncomfortable exclusivity conversation, or are you the kind of woman who’s smart enough to know a good thing when she feels it?”

“Haven’t felt all of it yet, have I?” She gave his hand a tug and started leading him across the street. “Come on.”

She pulled him through the door of a dark shop. “Cecile!” she called out. “ _Où es-tu_?”

In less than a minute, a tall, stunning woman came through a beaded curtain. “ _Le petit chasseur n'a pas de patience_ ,” she said. She kissed Tia on both cheeks, then looked at Loki.

“This is Cecile Montplaisir,” Tia said. “She’s an old friend. Probably a lot older than I know, but I don’t ask and she don’t tell.” Tia waved a hand around the shop. “And don’t mind the tourist trappings. All the real stuff happens behind the curtain. Cecile, this is…”

Before she said his name, Loki had dropped her hand in order to take Cecile’s. He bowed over it. It wasn’t mocking. He was showing respect where it was due. “ _Je crois que c'est de ma faute_ ,” he said as he straightened his spine and let go her hand. “ _S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi_.”

Cecile nodded at him. “Your French is adequate,” she said. “But your accent is terrible. Which is what I would expect. And as I don’t speak Old Norse, English will do.”

“Thank you,” Loki said.

The woman turned back to Tia. “You bring a trickster to my shop?” she asked.

Tia nodded. “Sure did.”

There was a long moment of silence as the two women stared at each other, then Cecile chuckled. “Oh I see,” she said. “You bring _your_ trickster into my shop.You think I can read his palm, maybe cast the bones? Tricksters can change their futures with a snap, I think." She gave him a look.

"If you want to see my palm, I promise on my admittedly tarnished honor not to switch hands with, say, Steven Tyler." His expression was serious, but friendly. "Madame Montplaisir, I would not waste your time with parlour tricks."

“Nor I yours. Or hers.” Cecile gave him a long, even look, then nodded. "And I will dispense from binding you with an oath. You think I haven’t trucked with your kind before? Anansi and I have history, and I married Eleggua’s cheval. Then I divorced him, because he was too much the trickster child and not enough the trickster man. My oath would hold you, _Loptr_.”

"It would." He smiled. “And your Old Norse sounds fine to me, madame.”

She smiled back. “We will begin with trust, yes? And see where it takes us." She  held out her hand and Loki didn’t hesitate to give her his own, palm up.

"Ah," she murmured after a moment’s close observation. "You have a big secret here. One you won't show me. Or her." She looked up at him.

"I have a few secrets," he said. "But the one you mean, it'd be dangerous for you to know it." He looked over at Tia. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded like he meant it. Tia looked at Cecile, who nodded. So she nodded too.“Understood,” Tia said. “Go on, now.”

Cecile examined his hand again, then she clucked her tongue in an admiring manner. "Quite the lover, quite the warrior."

"Not so much anymore," he responded. "With the warrior stuff, anyway. Still working on the other bit, but let’s say I’ve had a complimentary past." He winked at Tia, who felt herself blush.

Cecile didn’t notice. Her attention was still on the trickster’s palm. "Honor, more than one would expect. And you have family troubles."

That made him laugh, a little bitterly. "Yeah. Understatement of the millenia."

She continued to ignore his commentary. "You will have a choice to make, little brother. And sooner than you think. But not so soon that we can’t concentrate on the reason you are in my shop. My friend wants to know things about you. About her. About both of you. She is not so subtle, which you already know. And you like it. There could be love here.” She chuckled. “There already is chemistry enough to blow up the city. A kind of end will come, but not so very soon and nothing is carved in stone, not even the life of a god. And you will always have eyes on her. That will save her life, once, twice. Maybe three times. After that, I cannot see."

She released his hand and he shook it briefly. Tia knew how he felt. Cecile’s power tended to linger, like pins and needles.

"Should I have heard all that?” Tia asked.

Loki grinned. "Did it help?”

“We aren’t done yet.” Cecile turned to Tia, her hand out. "You know the rules, _chasseuresse._ ”

Tia sighed. "Yeah, I suppose," she said, and gave the woman her right hand.

Cecile hummed a bit as she examined Tia's hand. "Oh, big things, big doings, and once again you, right in the middle of them. This one," she nodded at Loki, "always with you, sometimes beside you, sometimes behind, but always watching out. This is a good time for you, _cherie_. Enjoy it. Enjoy him. This is the calm before the storm, for both of you." She looked up into Tia's eyes. "We will discuss the storm another day, I think."

"Inviting me to your hurricane party, Cecile? It might be best if I decline.” When the woman didn’t laugh at Tia’s remark, she sighed. “ _Oui_ , _bien. Merci, maman._ ”

Cecile narrowed her eyes at Tia, then laughed. She winked at Loki. “Good luck,” she said. “Your wolves are better behaved than she is.”

He looked at Tia, then smiled at Cecile. “And not half as fierce.”

Cecile laughed and patted Tia’s shoulder, then crossed the room to stand before Loki. She nodded her head again. “I like this one. Keep him. Have tricky babies and make your _Tonton_ happy.”

"You been talking to that old man again, Cecile? My _Tonton_ is never happy, you know that. He'd find something to grumble about. He's like a shark. If he stops complaining, he dies."

“So, uh, we’re good?” Loki asked, scratching the back of his head.

“So handsome when he’s unsure,” Cecile said, patting his face. “I think, very good.”

“All due respect, _Mambo,_ but you’re not the one I was asking.” Cecile stepped aside and Loki crossed to Tia. He put his hands on her face and kissed her, his lips sweet and gentle and absolutely sure, and it ended any question she had left about this or him.

Tia’s cheeks were flushed when he lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “Yes,” she said.

He kissed her forehead. “Good.”

“Now get out of my shop,” said a voice they had both kind of forgotten was there. Cecile was smiling, but indicating the door. “Shoo. Eat something. You’ll need your energy. Have oysters with plenty hot sauce.”

Loki draped an arm across Tia’s shoulders. “Are you suggesting we need the help?”

Cecile winked at him. “You’re still standing in my shop, aren’t you?”

After they left the shop, they decided to take Cecile’s advice about eating. Tia wanted to go to Acme Oyster House, but Loki said he preferred Peche. Both restaurants were near enough each other that they decided to do both, and let the empty shells determine the winner.

They spent the next few hours happily devouring buckets of oysters and hushpuppies, washed down with bottles of ice cold Abita. They walked by the river for a while afterward, and this time it was Tia who told stories about her childhood and how much she loved growing up in the city, especially when her uncle would come to visit. As it turned out, Loki knew the name Bobby Singer, though he was quick to assure Tia that they’d never tangled. “Nor would I ever want to,” he said. “Your uncle has quite a reputation.”

“He earned it,” Tia said.

“Was he the one who taught you?”

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “And he wasn’t happy when he found out I’d learned on my own. He was a lot less happy when I quit med school to hunt full time. But hunting gave me a purpose like nothing else ever did, and it kept me from relapsing.”

Loki nodded. “I noticed the scars,” he said. “I didn’t want to ask…”

“What, if I was a junkie?” she said. She held up her hand before he could speak. “It’s all right. I’ve been clean a long time.”

He took her hand and ran his fingers along the scars on the inside of her elbows. “I could heal them for you,” he said.

“No,” she said. “They’re a good reminder.”

He bent his head to press a kiss on her marked skin. “They’re part of who you are,” he said. “I have no interest in changing that.”

Tia shivered. His mouth was warm and even with the scar tissue, that was a sensitive spot. “How we doing on this whole third date thing?” she asked.

He smiled and drew her closer. “Yeah, I was kinda thinking that myself. How about we both head to our respective homes…” He put his finger on her lips to stop her from protesting. “For an hour to change so we don’t smell like a bait shop, and then I’ll send a car to take you to my house. 

She blushed again, a little embarrassed by her own enthusiasm. “For a second, I thought you were going to tell me we were waiting again.”

“Not a chance, gorgeous girl,” he said. “Just an hour or so. I’d tell you to wear something beautiful, but that would be painfully redundant. Everything you wear is beautiful. It’s on you.”

He angled his head to kiss her fully and she threaded her fingers into his hair. He had his hands on her back, alternately pressing her close and gripping the fabric of her t-shirt as the kiss intensified. Then one of his hands came around her ribcage and just ghosted against the underside of her breast, and she moaned aloud, twisting one of her legs around his and all but climbing up onto his hips. She couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted anyone like this. She wasn’t sure she ever had.

“I know,” he said breathlessly against her lips. “I know.”

“Read my mind again?” she asked, nipping at his mouth.

“I didn’t need to,” he said with a groan. “Because I really do know.”

“You could do that handy fingersnap thing,” she suggested. “I’m betting you have a shower at your place that’s big enough for two.”

"And deprive me of the chance to see what kind of stunningly sexy outfit you come up wit this time? Fat chance, gorgeous girl." He grinned widely. “But if it helps, I can fingersnap you home. That might be a good idea, actually -- get you away from me quick right now so I can get you back to me that much sooner, when I can keep you.”

She nodded. “Do it.”

“Okay.” He kissed her one more time, then snapped his fingers.

Tia all but fell onto her sofa when she arrived back in her living room. “My knees are weak,” she said to the empty room. “The son of a bitch actually makes my knees week. Bastard.” She got up off the couch for a shower. A very, very cold shower. _Bastard_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut soon. Comments are love, please!


	4. A Very Dry Martini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Tricksters get nervous, and tonight's plans are freaking Loki out a little more than he expected. A guy just wants to make the right impression, after all. So it's time to ask for a little advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a small interlude before we get to the smut

Meanwhile, at an antebellum mansion in the Garden District…

Loki paced from room to room, randomly picking things up and putting them down. He muttered, "Perfect, it has to be perfect."

He wandered into the bedroom, and noticed the supersized bottle of Astroglide on the nightstand, evidence of what he had been doing the past two nights after leaving her at her door. "Oh, no. Not cool, not cool." He grabbed it and shoved it into a drawer, then yanked the drawer open again and moved the bottle under the bed. "Handy, but not too handy ... yeah. CLOTHES. What am I going to wear?" He ran to the walk in closet and jerked the doors open so hard he broke the hinges. "Fuck," he muttered, and fixed the doors with a finger snap.

"Henleys. She likes the Henleys. 'Course, it's August in New Orleans, but who cares? I don't sweat." He wiped his hand across his forehead, and it came back damp. "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME?" he shouted to the empty room.

"Advice. That's what I need, some helpful advice. Who gives good advice? And isn't useless." He pondered for a moment. "Kali! Yes, a woman's point of view. Perfect! I am so smart. But if I fingersnap her here without warning, she'll smite the hell out of me. She might even ruin my hair. Hm. Does she have a phone? I could call. But she probably doesn't. Hah!" He smiled triumphantly, and a cell phone appeared in his hand, a tinny "brrrring" coming from the speaker.

"Hello?" an annoyed voice answered.

"Kali! Baby! How are you?"

He heard a sigh. "Loki. I should have known. Only you would put a phone in my pocket so you could call. What do you want?"

"Well, um, I kind of need some help. Advice! I need advice. Look, I can't do this over the phone. Could you come here? Please? I'm really in a bind."

"This better not be a repeat of Venice," she warned.

"Venice? NO! How could you even think such a thing?" He put on his best hurt voice. "Besides, how was I to know that was a guy? Just ... will you come?"  
She sighed again. "Yessss," she hissed. "Only because I can't stand when you whine, and I know you won't leave me be until I do. Five minutes,, and I'll teleport myself."

After the longest five minutes of his entire immortal life, Kali appeared. "This had better be important," she said. "I was busy."

Loki smiled at her. He meant it to look charming, but it came out looking a little sickly. "I, uh ... well, you see .. I kind of .... have a date."

"Goodbye, Loki," the goddess said, raising her hand.

"Wait! Wait. PLEASE, Kali. I need your help. Your help, the help of a beautiful, well put-together woman. I mean, look at you. The dress, the skulls, the freshly-painted bloodred nails. That is nail polish, right? Who cares? You look great. It’s flawless. You’re flawless. Please."

She rolled her eyes. "With what, exactly, do you need my help?"

He blushed to the roots of his hair. "Um. I don't know what to wear. And it's our third date, and we haven't, I mean, I haven't, and we probably will, and I really don’t want to screw this one up, so, Kali, please."

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they really were going to get stuck that way. "And who is this goddess, this paragon that has you stammering like a pathetic ... man? Is it Aphrodite? Did that toga'd bitch finally manage..."

"No, not Aphrodite. Not a goddess, actually. She’s human. And, well, a hunter."

"A WHAT?” Kali's screech could be heard in Metarie. "A hunter? Denim, and cowboy boots? And old bloodstains, no doubt. Oh, Loki. You've traded down. Way down."

"It's not like that. She's not like that. Look, I really like this girl - woman," he quickly corrected himself at Kali's narrowed eyes.

"Pathetic." Kali made the pronouncement as if she was announcing his doom. Loki opened his mouth to argue, and she continued, "Not the hunter. You. Who would have foreseen you - the great trickster, Loki Lie-Smith -- like this?” She made a disgusted face. “Look at you. You're sweating!" 

“Then you can see how much I need help,” he said. “Want me to say please 50 more times? I will. But I have to send a car for her in an hour and time is wasting. For old times sake, Kali?”

She sighed deeply. "Alright. Fine. I will help you, but only because I have pity for the depths to which you have sunk. And please, shower. You stink like the Ganges after a flood." She gestured to the closet. "I will deal with this. Go."

"Thank you," he said, clearly relieved. He blew her a kiss and left the room.

Forty-five minutes later, he was finally dressed. Kali had opted for a dressy casual look, putting him in a light blue cotton button-down shirt, a navy blazer, and a pair of khakis. The khakis were a little snug, which he mentioned, and the goddess gave him a cruel smile. “A little discomfort is the least you deserve.”

She was sitting at his dining room table, sneering at the cut-crystal and china place settings, and even more so at the lit candles and fresh magnolias. “So much effort for a human.” The final word came out like a curse.

Loki snapped his fingers and a chilled martini appeared. He pushed it across the table. “Since I’m short on time, I hope this is a reasonable substitute for a bucket of blood and entrails. I just cleaned.” 

Kali stirred the drink with her olives. “So tell me about your little human plaything. I can’t believe you haven’t fucked her yet. In fact, I can’t believe you haven’t fucked her and run. That’s what they’re good for, humans. That, and barbeque. But this? Please. Is she a southerner? All ‘ya’ll’ and ‘Yankee’ and too much hair and blush? I’m sure she cuts a fine figure in her cut-off shorts and ankle boots.’

He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. “Kali, thank you. Thank you for coming here and helping me, when I realize I was babbling like an idiot and we both know you think it was a waste of your valuable time. We have history, you and I, and it was a good history, a good time, and I even loved you, for a while. Now, I admit that I may have been a little less than myself before you so very kindly helped me with your fashion advice, and I think I have made it clear how much I appreciate that. But now I look good, I feel great, and I am really looking forward to my plans for the evening.” He tightened his fingers around her hand until he felt her knuckles crack. “You are not the only god in this room. And this is my house. If you insult her again, you do it at your own peril. Do we understand each other?”

She gave him a very even look. “No, Loki. In fact, I don’t think I understand you at all.”

“Another reason we have history and not present.” He let go her hand. 

“And your human understands you better? Better than your own kind?” 

“That’s the thing about you death goddesses,” he said. “All you really know of humans is their endings. Cemeteries. Cremation grounds. Bones and blood. You’ve never really lived among them. I have. For thousands of years. I’ve taken human lovers, declared myself brother, father, son. I can’t explain to you how amazing they are as an entire race -- I know. I’ve tried. So there is no way I am going to try to explain to you how amazing one of them is. And she is, Kali. She really, really is. Do you know, I walked to her house today. I could have teleported -- that’s what I’ve done every other time I’ve gone to see her or left to come home. But today, I walked. Because I wanted to know how to felt to get one step closer to her every time my legs moved, and I knew she’d be waiting on her porch for me and I wanted to see her when I turned the corner, how every single flawed and imperfect detail about her came a little more into focus with each of those steps. And the way I felt when that happened, until I finally got close enough to put my hand on her skin... How can I possibly make you understand why that matters, and why it’s incredible that she makes me feel this way?”

“You can’t.” She drained her drink. “You’re a fool, Loki. A romantic fool. That’s why we have history. And that’s why it will stay that way. In the past. Enjoy her. But remember -- they don’t last.” She faded from view.

Loki disappeared her empty glass with a sweep of his hand. “Maybe,” he admitted. He waved his hand again and the sounds of old New Orleans rhythm and blues filled the house. He smiled. “But nothing worth having ever does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love


	5. Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third Date, Part 2: Oh yes, there will be smut.

Tia followed her cold shower up with a warm one, then dried her hair and put her makeup back on. She spent every second of the next hour and fifteen minutes before the car showed up trying on at least a dozen outfits, finally landing on a simple, fitted black shift dress with slits up both sides so she could walk. She was just putting on her high heeled sandals when the text notification on her phone went off: _Your car, madame. L._

So now she had his phone number. She hadn’t even thought to ask if he had a phone.

She felt a little naked, to be honest, which was funny considering what she was going over there to do. She’d gone without a single weapon -- not a knife, not a .22, nothing. It was the first time in many years that she had done that. It felt strange. But then again, everything about the past few days had felt strange and given that her evening involved a being of immense power, she figured if anything popped up that neither of them had planned on, he’d be able to handle it. And probably snap up something for her to use as well.

Just as the car pulled up to the stunning mansion -- with very few lights on, she noticed -- her phone went off again: _It’s open._

She rolled her eyes, but smiled, then texted back, _Is this going to be like a scavenger hunt?_

 _Maybe_ , came the immediate response. _Don’t try to pretend you haven’t been waiting to play with me._

_In that case, let the games begin._

She got out of the car and started walking up the steps. The massive, hand-carved oak door stood just ajar, and it didn’t make a sound as she pushed it open and closed it behind her. It was dark inside, with just candles and hurricane lamps to light her way. _Somebody forgot the pay the electric bill_ , she texted.

She listened for the sound of a chuckle, but there was nothing except the next text notification. _Nice try. But I can be very quiet._

_We’ll see about that._

Promises, promises. Turn left and come through the parlor. Bring your wineglass.

She did as she was asked. On a small parlor table was a cut crystal wineglass. It was full. She sipped -- it was a rich beaujolais, all cherry and plum with a deep spice. She texted one-handed so she could carry the wine. _One of my favorites._

_Lucky coincidence. I’ve got four cases in the cellar. Do you hear the music?_

She did. Lloyd Price, singing “Just Because,” a New Orleans R&B classic. _Yes._

_Follow it. Leave your phone. You won’t need it anymore._

She put the phone down, along with her small evening bag. The music led her through a library where she was very tempted to linger, and then up a small flight of servant’s stairs to a door. Like the front door, this one had also been left partly ajar, so she opened it.

The room before her was lit by candles and oil lamps, just like downstairs had been. It was a dining room -- a formal one, from the look of it, but the set table in it was small and intimate, leaving most of the rest of the room open. Loki was sitting in one of the chairs, a smile on his face as he watched her walk across the room.

“You’re gonna set the house afire,” she said.

“Every single one of those flames is protected,” he said. “All the ambiance, none of the fire hazard. Hottest thing in this room is room is you.” He stood, took the wineglass from her hand and put it on the table, then put his hands on her face and kissed her.

She pressed close, briefly wondering how much longer the “date” was going to take. His mouth was better than the wine, and the wine was goddamn good. She couldn’t keep a little sound from escaping as they kissed, equal parts contentment and longing, and she felt him smile against her mouth.

He pulled back to look at her. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

She smiled. “You like the dress?”

“I hadn’t even noticed it.”

Christ, the waiting was killing her. She grabbed his collar and pulled him in for another kiss. The house was beautiful, and the wine and the flowers and the candles were a nice touch, they really were. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the effort -- she truly did -- but she was feeling like it had been nearly three days of foreplay and frankly, a woman gets anxious. Really anxious. Enough so that she couldn’t quite stop herself from popping open the two topmost buttons on his shirt and slipping her hand inside.

His hands had been gentle, one in her hair and the other on her lower back. When she started tracing her nails on the skin of his chest, though, he had a definite reaction. The hand on her lower back slid down to cup her ass, while the one in her hair gripped tight. She gasped.

He stopped instantly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He took a step back and placed his hands on her waist. “Did I hurt you?”

“That was a good noise, sugar.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Might wanna learn to recognize that.”

He grinned. He put a hand back on her ass and brought her in tight. “Well, I will now.”

She was waiting for him to kiss her again. Christ, she wanted him to kiss her again, but he didn’t. Instead he used the fingers of his free hand to trace the angles of her face before coming to rest on her shoulder. He sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I was hoping you’d be a little more concerned about what you were going to do to me,” she said.

The hand on her shoulder moved down her arm, while the one on her ass slid just a little lower, fingers grasping the fabric of her dress. His breathing had quickened. “Pretty sure I have that figured out,” he said in a low voice. “Pretty sure I’ve had that figured out for a while now.”

“Yeah?” Her own breathing wasn’t exactly calm and even. She still had one hand inside his shirt, moving slowly from his chest to his shoulder, fingernails tracing all the way. Her other hand seemed to have moved to his hip by its own volition and now it was sliding very slowly along his outer thigh. “Feel like clueing a woman in on any of that?”

“Well,” he said in that same low, quiet voice that was sending chills up her spine. “I thought we’d start with the wine, and the candlelight, and maybe a little something to snack on. All sweets, since that’s what we started with this morning and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the taste of sugar on your lips.”

Oh, he was a talker. As if he hadn’t already evidenced enough ways to make her feel like she was going to come out of her skin. The skin that he kept exposing a little more of every time his hand clenched at the hem of her dress. “Keep talking.”

“Then,” he said, as the hand not on her dress moved to her neck, fingers moving from her tendons to her clavicles and making her desperate for continued downward movement, “I thought maybe a little dancing. The candlelight, the music, and your body in my arms, pressing up against me as close as I could get it. Moving slowly to the music, maybe taking a few little cues from the words.” He bent his head to kiss her neck, his mouth open against her skin. “For when I started lowering the zipper of your dress.”

There were too many buttons on his shirt for her suddenly shaking fingers to adequately handle. But that didn’t keep her from trying. “Can’t help wondering at which point you might have thought about getting us out of this room.”

The bottom of her dress was near her waist, and his hands were back on her ass, massaging the skin that her black lace thong had left exposed and pressing her hips against his own. “Eventually,” he said. His face was still against her neck and when he spoke, the low register of his voice vibrated against her skin. “But there’s a reason this room is as empty as it is. Plenty of room for me to conjure up a spare bed, or a couch, or a pile of silk pillows on the floor. Someplace soft for me to lay you down and start lowering this dress off your shoulders.” He chuckled; she felt it down to her toes. “Or the opposite direction, as the case may be.”

His shirt was entirely open now, and she slid her hands around to his back. Then, because two could play at this deliriously fantastic game, she dragged her tongue in a long, slow stripe up his neck to his ear. She bit his earlobe, then sucked it into her mouth. When he groaned and pressed her hips even closer, so that she could feel that she wasn’t the only one who was evidencing a pretty strong reaction -- a pretty big reaction, as a matter of fact. That belt buckle digging into her stomach wasn’t very pleasant, though. Time to do something about that. “I trust you to figure out which way works best.”

“It’s really the zipper bit that’s important. Clearly that was a piece of knowledge you didn’t need to be reminded of.” He took cues well, and she felt cool air on her back as the zipper indeed descended.

He didn’t experience the same coolness following the slow unzipping that she had just engaged in. Instead, what he got was a warm hand, a warm and very talented hand that had slipped past the waistband of his silk boxers. She was gratified when he gasped and his fingers pressed hard against her upper back. She was even more gratified when the fingers of his other hand moved between her legs and began stroking the outside of her absolutely soaking thong. She couldn’t help moving her hips. “Sounds like you really gave these plans some thought, sugar.”

“Oh I did,” he said. There was a slight shake in his voice. She hoped to christ it meant he was finally losing as much patience as she was. “There’s just one thing I hadn’t counted on about my plans.”

“What’s that?” She gripped him a little tighter, moving her hand up and down his length.

“Not giving a fuck about any of them anymore.” With that, he snapped his fingers.

She knew two things immediately -- that she was on her back in a bed and that his hand was no longer on the outside of her thong. Both were very helpful -- the mattress gave her the leverage she needed to buck her hips and his hand, well, his hand was actually a damn sight past helpful. She wanted more. She angled her head up to kiss him hard. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort,” she said against his mouth as she began pulling both shirt and jacket off his shoulders.

He stopped what he was doing with his amazing fingers just long enough to get the clothes off his upper body and help get her dress up over her head. “That’s fine, because I really do appreciate your enthusiasm.” He removed his own pants and boxers, not taking his eyes off her as she did the same with her bra and thong. The clothes hit the floor and he all but jumped back onto the bed, his mouth immediately attaching to a nipple and his hand going back where it had been busy before.

She bit back a small scream when two of his fingers slid inside, and she was amazed that she still had the presence of mind to retaliate by dragging a fingernail up the underside of his cock, along the pulsing vein. Oh but the sound he made was worth it, as was the way he suddenly starting using his teeth. “Loki,” she gasped.

He kissed back up her body, biting at her neck along the way, and then capturing her mouth in a heated kiss. “I swear, I am normally all about the foreplay,” he said. “But part of me feels like we’ve had an awful lot of that by now.”

“This part?” she asked, wrapping her hand fully around his thick cock and alternating between gripping and pumping. “The part that I want inside me already?”

“Oh thank fucking god.” He didn’t waste another second, just hooked one of her legs onto his hip and thrust forward hard.

Nothing had ever felt so good. At least, not until he started moving. He had a hand under her lower back to keep the angle just right, so that he was hitting exactly the right place with each powerful thrust. And she was meeting every single one of them, fingernails digging into his back, mouth latched onto his shoulder hard enough to leave marks. God, the sounds he was making -- no more words now, no more talking. Just growls and groans and deep, guttural grunts. It was rough and primal and it was worth every single bruise she knew she was going to have when they were done. He’d offered to heal her once already. This time, she’d let him, if only to make sure she was in perfect shape for the next round.

With a noise straight from every fantasy she’d been nursing for the past three days, he shifted their position so that she was half sitting up and he was able to push in even deeper. There was heat pooling in the pit of her stomach and an aching building between her legs. “Yes,” she breathed. “Don’t stop, Jesus, don’t stop.”

“Won’t,” he panted. “Can’t.”

There was a wall behind her back and he was slamming her against it, his pace starting to alter and his body tensing. She was close, could feel he was close, and she wanted it that way. She wrapped her legs tight around his hips and pulled his hair, hitting her own head hard against the wall as she came with a shout. She saw stars. Shit, she might have just concussed herself. And she didn’t give a damn, because he was growling her name and his fingers gripped her hips tightly enough that it hurt, and then with one last movement of his hips, he was still, save for the trembling of his hard-worked muscles.

Long moments passed as they got control back over their breathing. He moved her gently onto her back again, kissing her as he moved off her body to lay beside her. He cupped the back of her head; the pain went away immediately. “Are you all right?”

“Better than,” she said. “Just going to need a little while before I can do much.”

He pulled her against his chest. “Take all the time you need. Take a week.”

“A few hours, maybe,” she said. “Before I get myself all cleaned up and head home.”

“Head home?” he asked. He looked honestly confused. “Why?”

“Because I…” Didn’t think I’d be spending the night, she almost said. She lifted her head to look at him, at those pretty eyes staring straight into hers, those lips quirked in a small smile. “I… I don’t know.”

He stroked her hair. “Stay,” he said. “I want you to stay. Don’t get out of this bed. Until we move to another one. I’ll be honest, I’m not exactly sure where this one came from. I don’t recognize it at all. Is it yours?”

“Nope, not mine. Worked well enough, though.” She looked around - they were still in the dining room. She chuckled. “How many beds do you have?”

“Four in the house. Well, five now, I guess.” He laughed outright. “Oh, Gigi,” he said, touching her face. “You make me forget myself. Nobody’s been able to do that for a long, long time.”

“Is that good?” she asked.

“So good, gorgeous girl.” He leaned up to kiss her. “So very, very good. So please don’t leave.”

Oh, this man. This more than man. Barely three days and she already felt like it would take wild horses ridden by a demon horde to drag her out of this bed and away from his side. The way he was looking at her sent warmth spreading through her body all over again. She draped herself across him and he wrapped his arms around her. She nestled against his chest. “I won’t.”

“Sleep,” he suggested. “I want you well-rested.”

Comfortable and warm as she was, that sounded like a terrific idea. “What about you?” She didn’t know if he slept.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said as he began stroking her hair again. “Might move us to a different bed at some point, but you won’t notice until you wake up. Then we can see how that one works.” He kissed the top of her head. “Sleep, Gigi. I will be right here.”

“Just where I want you.” Part of her mind started a little at having said that out loud, but the larger part was too tired and satisfied to care. This felt good. It felt right. And as it turned out, she was a smart enough woman to know that when she felt it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading -- I hope the final chapter was satisfying!! I would love to continue this story, but I could use some help! Prompts? Ideas? Requests? Help a Gabriel sister out! Again, thank you guys so much!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love, especially because OFCs don't get much love in the fic world. I hope you enjoy. This story will continue in three parts (so far).
> 
> Prompts and questions happily accepted.


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